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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29945745">Malcolm gets Shafted</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sy1as/pseuds/Sy1as'>Sy1as</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Prodigal Son (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Humor, BAMF Dani Powell, Brightwell, Canon Related, Canon Relationships, Fluff and Humor, He Totally Would Not Be Okay After That Fall, Hospitals, Hurt Malcolm Bright, Injury, Kinda, Let Malcolm Bright go to the Hospital, Malcolm Bright &amp; Dani Powell Friendship, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Malcolm Bright Whump, Malcolm Bright deserves better, Malcolm Bright is a Mess, Pining, Post-Canon Fix-It, Pre-Malcolm Bright/Dani Powell, Pre-Relationship, Protective Dani Powell, Sarcasm, Team Dynamics, injured Malcolm Bright, stop making Malcolm walk-it-off</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:08:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,584</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29945745</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sy1as/pseuds/Sy1as</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm's life had never been sunshine and rainbows. That's literally just how it is after your father is arrested for murdering twenty-three (at least) people. It's the territory that comes with being the son of a notorious serial killer. All that said, Malcolm can easily say he'd never been <em>shafted</em> so hard on an investigation in his life; both metaphorically, and, well, physcially because he'd quite literally been shoved down an elevator shaft while persuing a shady figure. </p><p>In the end, Malcolm knows whats real, and what was a dream, but he still can't help getting lost in the parallels between them. Who would've thought falling three-stores would be one of the most traumatic, and eye-opening things in his life? Also, is there any chance he can have a lift to the hospital, because <em>ouch</em>?</p><p>or,</p><p>The hospital visit after Prodigal Son S2E6 we all knew Malcolm needed, but the PS writers failed to give us; featuring our broken Bright boy, snippets if JT and Dani being concerned™</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>(episode canon Brightwell), Gil Arroyo &amp; Malcolm Bright, Gil Arroyo &amp; Malcolm Bright &amp; Dani Powell &amp; JT Tarmel, Malcolm Bright &amp; Dani Powell, Malcolm Bright &amp; JT Tarmel, Malcolm Bright/Dani Powell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>107</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Malcolm gets Shafted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I hope the tags make sense if you've seen the episode I'm writing about? There's not technically Brightwell, but it's mentioned and for Malcolm there was, so, y'know. This was suggested by an anon on my other fic, so thank you for your fic suggestion, hopefully I do it justice!</p><p>Title of the fic came from my brother saying ‘shaft’, ‘shafted’ or even 'big shaft' when anything goes wrong in his life. Like his life is screwing (shafting) him. I couldn’t stop smiling as I was writing this, hearing his voice go ‘shaft!’ in my head whenever something goes wrong for Malcolm. And also, the elevator shaft. All the connections. And we can all be honest here, Malcolm is definitely getting shafted by life-- and has been for over twenty years now.</p><p>Anyways, please enjoy me bullying Malcolm some more because he's so whumpable.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was hazy.  </p><p>That was the best way to describe it.  </p><p>His mind was hyper-fixed on solving the case; on putting the killer behind bars where they belong for taking a life.  </p><p>So hyper-fixated, in fact, that he barely had a moment to think about the immense pain he was in before launching himself into deciphering what was real and what had been in his head.  </p><p>There was a lot of red flags about whatever had just happened… whatever the hell had just happened. The case being solved in his head, he’d really solved a whole case in his subconscious. With symbolism, and… he wasn’t even sure how he’d done it, to be honest.  </p><p>All he knew was that he’d pieces the case together piece by piece solved Lyle Reynolds’ murder.  </p><p>In his… in his head. </p><p>The case was solved, he knew.  </p><p>He’d dwindled everything down to one single person. He knew who’d killed Lyle Reynolds. It was just about pulling himself off the ground and getting to his detectives who could actually arrest the murder at this point.  </p><p>Consultants didn’t have that kind of pull.  </p><p>Malcolm forced himself back to the task at hand. </p><p>His current predicament.  </p><p>He’d been distracted with the thrill of the case, but he still faintly remembered what had led him to solving it. What led to his dream state where he’d had the means to sort everything out in possibly the oddest way he’d ever gone about it.   </p><p>But he could remember.  </p><p>He’d been pushed off the third floor. By the same person who’d killed Lyle Reynolds.  </p><p>Even though he knew he was in pain, a very distant pain, and that he should be a tad more concerned about his well-being, he couldn’t help but focus everything he had on the case. On the killer. On putting this investigation to rest.  </p><p>He had a one-track mind when it comes to closing a case. He wasn’t sure if that was really a strength, or a weakness. </p><p>So, as Malcolm laid on the bottom of the elevator shaft, attention slow and drifting, he was consumed with a bitter feeling that this was just an obstacle in the way. A trap laid out by the killer for Malcolm to fall into (and he had). </p><p>Something that stood between Malcolm and his goal. A stumbling block standing between him and his need to finish the case. It only seemed to motivate him more to put the killer behind bars.  </p><p>The case would always come first. Because the faster its closed, and the killer was arrested, the less people suffer. The less lives they lose along the way. It’s simple. </p><p>Maybe not intelligent-- especially coming from the one at the bottom of an elevator shaft because he hadn’t bothered waiting for backup-- but simple enough.  </p><p>Malcolm was running on sheer adrenaline, barely able to feel that pain of taking a three-story fall, besides the continuous thrum of an ache somewhere in the back of his mind and deep in his bones that seemed intent reminding him he’d, definitely, taken such a fall.  </p><p>Down <em>three-stories</em>.  </p><p>It was certainly there, but not enough to be a concern yet. Well, it was a concern, but a concern that could come after he made the arrest clouding the remainder of his mind. </p><p>Malcolm was sure the dull thrum of pain would only get worse the longer he ignored it. When his haze cleared and his excitement of solving the case waned. So, he needed to work fast before his body really started feel the strain. </p><p>He could only count on the adrenaline for so long before the haze stunning the pain would clear. That wouldn’t be much of a fun time, and he was already gritting his teeth at the thought.   </p><p>Obviously, he knew the adrenaline wouldn’t last forever-- and that he was probably pretty hurt under that cloud of adrenaline and his dream state. You don’t fall three-stories and get up completely unscathed. Gravity just didn’t work like that-- if you fall, you’re going to fall hard. And three-stories a long way down.  </p><p>Because yeah, he was sure he’d broken at least a couple ribs-- and there probably a concussion thrown in the mix as well. It was a blessing that he wasn’t in instant excruciating pain, but he wondered how much of that was due to the adrenaline haze. </p><p>He really couldn’t tell how injured he really was, the only thing he could focus on was getting himself out of this hole, and catching the killer.   </p><p>He knew he wasn’t in the best state. There was some kind of head trauma he couldn’t quite feel yet, but he had passed out; for… well, he wasn’t sure how long, but he’d definitely passed out.  </p><p>Not a good sign.  </p><p>Malcolm’s brain was moving far faster than his body would, limbs trembling as his gaze caught the elevator descending towards him.  </p><p>He grabbed blindly (and <em>ouch</em>, there was definitely something going down with his shoulder) for something to stop it moving before it could crush him like a bug, only to realize what he’d grabbed was a bone. </p><p>A human bone.  </p><p>And besides that, a human skull. He wasn’t alone in this elevator shaft.  </p><p>He took the faintest second to wonder if his next actions would be considered tampering with evidence, but in the end, it was this bone’s sacrifice for Malcolm’s life. He’d jammed the bone in the wheel mechanism and the elevator halted to an abrupt stop with a loud, terrifying screech.  </p><p>He’ll admit his brain short circuited for a second, he was dumbfounded as he forced himself to draw in a couple deep, shaky breaths of adrenaline. His heart beating fast in his chest-- frankly too fast to be considered healthy in the slightest, but it was still beating.  </p><p>A blessing, really.  </p><p>He’d solved the case in this subconscious dream-- or, what he assumed was a subconscious dream.  </p><p>He really… wasn’t quite sure what was real and what was a dream as he stared up at the bottom of the now jammed elevator car. He had his hopes, but there was still a sinking feeling of truth in his gut. He was sure he knew which was real, and which was the dream; he just didn’t want to accept his subconscious pleas.  </p><p>He’d been working this case in two different places, and he wasn’t even really sure which was real. Well, obviously the one with Gil in his father’s cage, and his serial killer father living happily at home was a dream.  </p><p>Those big changes he could tell which was real, and which made up-- but the subtle ones he was iffy about. </p><p>The dream had been perfect (except for Gil’s role); Ainsley hadn’t killed anyone, and he was sure his father hadn’t either. Both successful in the medical field.  </p><p>Where Malcolm was… normal. Where his father hadn’t fucked with his head, and broken him. Where he and Dani were… where they…  </p><p>Malcolm swallowed again. </p><p>He couldn’t quite figure out which one he was in now. Real life, or possibly his dream still? Maybe his dream was reality-- he couldn’t tell. Not by himself, at least. He’d need to talk to someone… to Dani.  </p><p>Dani would be able to clear things up for him.  </p><p>It had been far too realistic. </p><p>Malcolm forced his throat to swallow. It had all felt too real- Ainsley, and his father. His mother. JT. Dani. God, Dani… his heart gave a sad little thump, but he brushed it aside.  </p><p>Malcolm forced his attention away from his lingering thoughts, reaching blindly for the skull, the evidence of another murder done by the killer who’d killed Lyle Reynolds, along with multiple other cold-case murders.  </p><p>They finally knew who the Bowery Ripper was.  </p><p>Getting out of the shaft was a lot hazier than waking up was.  </p><p>He wasn’t quite sure how he’d done it. He remembers forcing himself up, and out. Keeping the skull with him as proof-- what they need to make the arrest of Mr. Swann for the murder of Lyle Reynolds and all those before the Bowery Ripper’s murders came to a cold-case halt. </p><p>Whoever this poor victim was, as well as Lyle Reynolds and all the others who’d died at the hands of the Bowery Ripper in the nineteen-sixties. This skull would put the killer away for good, after all these years. Justice served. </p><p>His memories started to return around the time he was stumbling towards JT and Dani, who had finally arrived. He remembers the shock and surprise on their faces as they catch sight of him, injured and broken, but still completely set on solving the case.  </p><p>Up and moving when he probably shouldn’t be. Stumbling along, and wavering with each step. A little pain never stopped Malcolm Bright though.  </p><p>Dani looked him over cautiously, but JT’s eyes seem to be stuck on the find in his hand.  </p><p>His heart quickened at the sight of Dani making her way towards him, a step or so ahead of JT, but a sinking feeling of dread filled his stomach as he forces the question he doesn’t really want to know the answer to past his lips: “When was the last time we spoke?” </p><p>“Like twenty minutes ago,” Dani had furrowed her eyebrows, eyes searching Malcolm’s face before dropping to the skull in his hands, “is… is that a human skull?” </p><p>Malcolm swallowed, clumsily pushing his sleeve up to check his watch. The time lined up with what Dani said. He was back. This was reality. He gave a sigh. “I know who the killer is.” </p><p>He could tell they didn’t quite believe him, but they went along with it anyways, following behind him, and probably scrutinizing his back because he was sure he looked like he’d fallen three stories, even if he didn’t quite feel it yet.  </p><p>He could feel himself tipping sideways as he moved, but he remained upright. Leading his team up the stairs, because he might throw up should he see the elevator… and, well, he’d jammed it.  </p><p>Dani and JT followed closely behind as he marched his way up to the Swann’s apartment, skull in hand. Greta opened the door, confusion on her face-- furrowing her eyebrows as he swayed, but he was determined, “is your father home?” </p><p>Malcolm knew it was him.  </p><p>He knew Lyle Reynolds’ murder was Rupert Swann-- and the man hadn’t even tried to deny it. Not with the skull in Malcolm’s hand. He knew Rupert Swann was the Bowery Ripper, and the helpful friend in his hand was all the proof he needed.  </p><p>Malcolm watched, swaying where he stood as Rupert was cuffed, a quiet apology on his lips to his daughter, and Malcolm felt for her. He, better than anyone else, knew was Greta was going through. The impact this would have on her. </p><p>But he couldn’t dwell on it.  </p><p>He could feel Dani’s eyes tracking his movements, and really, he should expect it since he’d been leading them along with minimum explanation of how he’d figured out Rupert Swann was their killer.  </p><p>He wasn’t entirely sure how to go about telling them anyways.  </p><p>Besides, just because the killer was known, didn’t mean they were done at the scene. He wasn’t done yet, no matter how much his body begged to just crumple to the floor.</p>
<hr/><p>Malcolm refused a bus.  </p><p>They’d apprehended the Bowery Ripper, and he’d be spending the rest of his life behind bars. Sixty-odd years later, and now, suddenly the cold-cases of the Bowery Ripper were solved. Justice served to the families of the victims, and the victims themselves.  </p><p>That was something to be proud of-- and if Malcolm didn’t feel quite as nauseous from the atrocious impact of his head and back hitting the ground from three stories up, he would’ve been giddy as hell.  </p><p>JT had given Malcolm a once-over, gnawing on the inside of his cheek before he was leading Mr. Swann away, into the police car waiting. He’d casted exactly two looks back at Malcolm as he helped the old man into the car, and that was about as much worry JT had ever expressed towards him. </p><p>Gil would be meeting JT at the station, since Gil had been there already. Malcolm had called Dani, and Dani apparently had called JT and no one had thought to invite Gil to the murder solving party.  </p><p>They might be in trouble for that, now that Malcolm thinks about it. </p><p>But on the bright side, Malcolm didn’t have to talk Gil down from helicoptering around him with worry. That would come later, so at least he had a few hours to collect his thoughts and find something to manage his pain before speaking with his boss.  </p><p>JT had told Malcolm he needed to get checked out, in a rather ambiguous way, hiding the concern in his eyes behind a well-mastered mask of indifference. Malcolm could see the worry there-- and in the way JT had been chewing a hole in the side of his cheek subconsciously.  </p><p>Anyways, Malcolm could read between the lines when JT told him he looked like shit.  </p><p>It was friendly enough for their odd little friendship, probably one of the nicer things JT had said to him when it came to showing concern. The man was considerably bad at expressing his emotions-- and it was tenfold when it came to expressing any feelings towards Malcolm.  </p><p>It was the thought that counted though. Malcolm had managed a pained smile in JT’s direction as he loaded their killer away, trying not to wheeze on the pain slowly starting to surface.  </p><p>Concern from JT was rare, and it almost made Malcolm uncomfortable, just because JT was hardly so open about it.  </p><p>So even that seemingly casual comment had told Malcolm he probably really did look like shit. If JT was even mentioning it, it had to be pretty noticeable. Worth mentioning.  </p><p>And the thing was, he definitely <em>felt</em> like shit too.  </p><p>His body <em>ached</em>, and Malcolm was sure he had some kind of dislocation in his shoulder-- a tear in his muscle at least, and that’s the best-case scenario. He hoped that it wasn’t a complete dislocation of his shoulder, but only a medical exam would tell. </p><p>The striking ache in his shoulder was probably causing him the most pain. Maybe in the way there was zero support unless Malcolm was holding his own arm, and at this rate, it wouldn’t be long until he was doing just that. </p><p>It was slowly starting to cloud his mind. It wasn’t broken, he knew, he was, like, ninety percent sure most of his bones were intact still but good God did it hurt. </p><p>Malcolm wouldn’t even be surprise if he’d somehow managed to crack some of the vertebrae in his back either, and he was almost certain there was some kind of skull fracture just going off the blinding heat thrumming behind his eyes.  </p><p>If he wasn’t so independent and set on being in control of his life, he’d probably had succumbed to the pain by now. But he unfortunately was, so he’d continue to hold off until he physically couldn’t anymore. </p><p>There were moments when he was completely blinded by white hot pain, but then he could turn a certain way, and take a breath and it would fizzle out to the regular stabbing pain he’d already learned to handle.  </p><p>The manageable kind that didn’t have him bent in half and wheezing like he’d run a marathon with pneumonia.  </p><p>It really was to be expected when falling three stories down an elevator shaft. Malcolm just hated to admit he’d been bested by the killer before they’d gotten the man cuffed. </p><p>Dani definitely noticed the pain he was in from early on, even if he tried to hide it. Her attention followed him cautiously, eyes fixated like Malcolm was about to kneel over any second. </p><p>And honestly, he was surprised he’d kept himself going so long. Especially after they’d gotten Mr. Swann cuffed. His adrenaline was wearing off by that point, and with it, his aches were hitting him like a freight truck. </p><p>She lingered close. Hands ready to catch him, should he collapse. She’d even reached out and brushed a rather tender spot on the side of his head that sent a mixture of equal parts fond heat and pain through his body.   </p><p>“Okay… you really need an ambulance,” Dani had told him when he stumbled, pain jolting through his entire body and knocking the breath out of him, for the third time since they’d started walking to the car.  </p><p>It had taken longer than it should have for Malcolm to suck in another breath, pain shooting along his spine as he did so, but Dani’s hand on the small of his back drew his attention away from the pain.  </p><p>And for a second, he could almost imagine this was the alternate reality Dani-- the one his parents were questioning when he was going to marry. The Dani he’d woken up besides, nightmare free and sat on the couch drinking coffee with. The one he’d kissed.  </p><p>But it wasn’t.  </p><p>“I don’t,” Malcolm promised, stumbling over his own feet as he was hit with a bout of lightheadedness, “I don’t need a bus-- a hospital, perhaps, but I’m not taking a bus.” </p><p>And Gil wasn’t here to force him too.  </p><p>Dani was a bit more in tune to Malcolm’s refusal for medical-- actually, not even that, she just knew he was a lost cause when it came to convincing or forcing him to do something he didn’t want to.  </p><p>So, she never tried to really force him into it, which Gil tended to do after getting one look at Malcolm’s poor attempt at hiding his pain.  </p><p>The man could spot an injury on him from miles away, and rarely accepted Malcolm’s dismissal of how serious any specific injury was. There had been a lot injuries between the time Malcolm had met Gil, to this point. And… well, a lot had unfortunately happened whilst being a part of Gil’s team. </p><p>In layman’s terms, Gil had a lot of experience dealing with Malcolm and his pain.  </p><p>“So, what I’m hearing here is no bus, but you’ll go to the hospital? Or… do I have to call Gil to drag your sorry ass there?” </p><p>“Don’t call Gil,” Malcolm groaned, “I’m fine, but I… wouldn’t say no to a hospital right now?” Malcolm winced as something in his back jostled as he took a step. The longer he was up right and moving, as the adrenaline faded away, the more intense his pain was getting.  </p><p>He tended to pride himself at his extremely high pain tolerance, but this, this was like someone was stabbing him with a flaming dagger in his spine, shoulder and head with each step he took. </p><p>Unpleasant to say the least. It was bad enough that Malcolm wasn’t even going to fight going to get checked-- anyone in their right mind would want to be carted off to the hospital after a three-story drop; and that’s if they survive the fall.  </p><p>Malcolm had been holding off on it for about an hour and a half at this point, and he was starting to think it wasn’t that smart of an idea? </p><p>So, yeah, the hospital was a good idea. An x-ray might be in order, and he really wouldn’t turn his nose up to any pain medication offered. He was kinda getting desperate to relieve the almost unbearable aches coursing through his bones and muscles.  </p><p>Besides, what was another bottle of pills to the ones already lining his counter top? </p><p>Dani worried her bottom lip between her teeth, looking between him, and her car before she sent him an unsure look, “if you won’t take a bus, can I at least take you to the hospital? Gil’s expecting us at the precinct, but he won’t mind a pit stop when it comes to the hospital. Besides, you best get checked out before he hears you took a nose dive down the elevator shaft. Now that’ll be one hell of a lecture.” </p><p>“Not a nose dive,” Malcolm scoffed, the sound dragging a wave of pain up his spine, “I was shoved. And technically, it was more a <em>swann</em> dive than a nose dive. Also, did I mention it really wasn’t a fun time?” </p><p>Dani gave him a sarcastic ‘mhm’, before sharpening her gaze. Only then did Malcolm remember there’d been more to her words than the playful jab. He cleared his throat.  </p><p>“Are you sure?” Malcolm forced out. He really wanted nothing more than to catch a ride with her to the hospital. He didn’t want to take a bus, or a cab-- but he also didn’t want to bother Dani. This Dani wasn’t the one from his dream, they kept each other at arm's length in the real world. “I can call a cab--” </p><p>“Your choices are coming with me, or the bus,” Dani told him sharply, a look not unlike one Gil often shot in Malcolm’s direction. She definitely picked that up from Gil. “Or Gil. Your move, Bright.” </p><p>“Well,” Malcolm cleared his throat, hoping his voice held some humor instead of just pain as he tried (and failed) to straighten himself up, “lead the way then, Detective Powell.” </p><p>Dani gave him another once-over before she did as told, leading Malcolm towards her car. She opened the passenger door for him, and he didn’t even have the strength to pout at her doing easy things for him.  </p><p>He’d accepted the gesture, shooting her a thankful smile that he was sure came off more as a pained grimace.  </p><p>Dani gave him a nod in return, waiting for him to buckle in before shutting the door for him and rounding to the driver’s side. He took the second alone to draw in a breath and squeeze his eyes shut, but unfortunately had been caught doing so.  </p><p>He could feel the concern rolling off Dani in waves, and Malcolm didn’t like it. He didn’t want her to be worried about him, but at the same time, he couldn’t deny it wasn’t nice she cared.  </p><p>“How’re you feeling?” Dani’s voice was soft as she buckled herself in, starting the car and looking behind to watch for oncoming traffic before pulling out onto the main road. </p><p>“Well,” Malcolm clicked his tongue, carefully lowering himself back against the back and head rests. It hurt, more than he’d like to admit, “a bit like I fell three stories down an elevator shaft.” </p><p>“Oddly specific,” Dani snorted with a roll of her eyes. She slowly pulled the car out of the parking space outside the hotel, frowning as Malcolm winced.  </p><p>It wasn’t a lot of movement, but his body was in the stage of protesting just about everything at this point. Malcolm was sure he could pick up a feather and his muscles would scream in protest. </p><p>Malcolm waved her off with a small smile, as he reached up to run his fingers through his hair, casually checking if he was bleeding or not.  </p><p>He was, just slightly. Most of the blood he’d lost was still in the elevator shaft from his time unconscious. </p><p>His head now was more a gummy mess of dried blood from laying in the blood. Not enough active bleeding to be a big concern-- or, a bigger concern than it already was. He still gave a pained shutter when his fingers came into contact with the wound.  </p><p>They jerked softly to a stop as they came up to a red light, but it still made Malcolm’s whole being burn in pain. Dani noticed, because of course she would, so she muttered a curse, followed by an apology as she reached over to flatten her hand on his knee.  </p><p>It was more comforting that Malcolm had thought it would’ve been. And oddly enough, his knees were the only part of his body that didn’t positively <em>ache</em>. </p><p>He hadn’t anticipated the car ride to be quite as painful as it was.  </p><p>“Are you sure you shouldn’t just take a bus?” </p><p>“No,” Malcolm admitted as he squeezed his eyes shut. He knew he probably should’ve sucked it up and taken the medical transport but… “I’d rather ride with you.” </p><p>Dani ducked her head just right so Malcolm couldn’t see her face. She didn’t say anything, but he could see a small smile curling onto her lips, and the hand on his knee gave a careful squeeze.  </p><p>Malcolm gave her a smile that he’s not sure if she saw or not, before letting his eyes fall shut. He didn’t plan on falling asleep or anything, he was just exhausted. Exhausted and in pain. The world around him, even the dim lighting from the street lights and traffic lights made his head thrum. </p><p>Definitely a concussion. </p><p>“Don’t you fall asleep; you’ve probably got a concussion.” Malcolm gave a hum of acknowledgement.  </p><p>He pushed it a second longer before forcing his eyes open and looking towards Dani.  </p><p>Her attention was split between the road and glancing at him; like she was expecting him to pass out right in front of her.  </p><p>He didn’t plan on it.  </p><p>They didn’t say much for the rest of the ride to the hospital. Malcolm enjoyed the silence, eyes drifting closed before he’d force them opened again. Usually before Dani had to remind him about sleeping with a concussion.  </p><p>To Malcolm’s surprise, Dani parked the car instead of just driving past the ER and stopping for Malcolm to get out. He gave her a surprised look that she caught, raising an eyebrow questioningly at him. </p><p>“I didn’t think you’d stay,” Malcolm furrowed his eyebrows, not yet undoing his seat belt.  </p><p>“You think I’m going to leave you alone in the state you’re in?” Dani sounded appalled at the thought, “no chance, Bright. I’m going to wait around until you’re good to go, and then, depending on what the doctor says, I’m either taking you home, or to the precinct.” </p><p>“I don’t know how long I’ll be in there,” Malcolm reminded with a small frown. He didn’t want her just sitting around for no reason. Was he really worth that? Wasn’t there something better for Dani to be doing? They had just apprehended a murder and solved sixty-year-old cold cases. </p><p>“That’s fine, I’ve got time,” Dani shrugged. “Now, out of the car. You’ve gone a lot paler in the last ten minutes of the drive, and I’ll be mad if you pass out just a couple steps away from the hospital.” </p><p>“Yes, Ma’am,” Malcolm hummed.  </p><p>He didn’t doubt for a second his complexion hadn’t started to fade to a sickly pale. He honestly wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep himself upright. </p><p>Malcolm wasn’t at all surprised by the shock the receptionist shot in his direction when he and Dani stumbled into the ER. There were other people sitting and waiting and none seemed to mind Malcolm being ushered to the front of the line. </p><p>And he got it, he probably looked the part of falling three stories down-- especially if people weren’t complaining that he skipped the waiting room.  </p><p>Malcolm was sure he would’ve been bumped up in line even if Dani hadn’t flashed her badge impatiently and told them he’d taken a tumble down a three-story ledge. Either way he was quickly ushered back for medical attention.  </p><p>It was hours later, a CT scan and an x-ray that Malcolm found himself on a cot very much like the one he’d woken up on in his dream.  </p><p>His torso was undressed, and he had compression bandages wrapped around his middle for support. He still had a cold compress he was pressing to some of the deeper bruises on the side of his head, but it wasn’t helping much. </p><p>They’d tried giving him morphine first to ease the pain, which barely did anything with his high tolerance to it, so, following that attempt was a low dose of OxyContin. He’d felt better with the opiate, but it didn’t completely take his aches away. </p><p>With the drug though, it was a lot more bearable.  </p><p>He was in much more pain in real life than dream him had been in. For a second, he wished he could’ve really walked away from this with just a mild concussion. Wouldn’t that have been perfect? </p><p>Alone in the room, Malcolm couldn’t help but dwell on his frankly scarily real concussion dream. He was still struggling to pick out what was real memories, and was just things his subconscious deeply craved. Picking the dream apart, but still have not a clue where his real life differed.  </p><p>Things lined up between his dream and reality. Small little things that could go either way, but he could thankfully separate the big things, like his father being free, Ainsley’s mental health restored, Gil being in his father’s place at Claremont-- his serious relationship with Dani. </p><p>The parallels messed with his head, and for just a second, he expected Dani and JT to walk into the room, but he knew it wouldn’t happen.  </p><p>That was the dream-- Dani had literally driven him here. Real Dani wasn’t his like subconscious Dani was. Their relationship was strictly co-worker/kinda friends. </p><p>Malcolm brushed away the thought as his lips dipped in a frown. </p><p>He’d had a mild concussion, and his shoulder did in fact have a subluxation, but it really wasn’t as bad as it felt.  </p><p>The doctor who’d been working with him had still maneuvered the bone back into place, and he’d been given a brace he could wear under his clothes to prevent his shoulder from moving around too much. </p><p>It felt ten times better with support, so Malcolm didn’t bother arguing that he didn’t need it. Besides, the faster he was healed, the faster he could be actively working cases again. He didn’t even want to think about the fact Gil would most definitely be putting him on desk work-- and that was if the man let him keep working at all.  </p><p>The x-rays taken had shown three cracked ribs, and the finest hairline fracture in one of the vertebrae in his back. It really was a miracle considering Malcolm was sure he’d landed on his back. The damage should be worse, but he supposed he was lucky. </p><p>The damaged checked out pain wise, especially since the whole of his back was one huge bruise. He’d landed majority on his back, but by some miracle, nothing was badly broken. The doctor had been surprised when Malcolm had told him what had resulted in the impromptu visit to get checked out.  </p><p>There wasn’t a lot the hospital could do for his cracked ribs, and the vertebrae fracture was small enough it was hardly a worry. They’d all heal on their own should he not overexert himself somehow.  </p><p>The reoccurring theme here, he noticed, seemed to be that he’d just be in pain for a while. Miraculously, nothing extremely bad had happened. Everything would thankfully start to clear up on its own, and he didn’t need any surgeries or anything, which was a win.  </p><p>His CT scan had also come back with nothing out of the ordinary. A mild concussion, just like he’d had in his dream. Clearly his brain had diagnosed itself right-- but hadn’t bothered with the rest of his aching body. </p><p>He got the same set of instructions he’d gotten the last time he’d had a concussion (because there had been a few in his life): no alcohol, waking periods every few hours between sleep, no over the counter pain relief (but his prescribed OxyContin was deemed alright), eat light foods, take a step back from things that require a lot of concentration or attention (which was basically his job). </p><p>Basically, Malcolm had a whole lot of nothing to be doing the next few days. He wasn’t sure how he was going to keep himself distracted.   </p><p>The concussion was accompanied by one single hairline fraction in his skull from impact that wasn’t much a worry either. It would be painful for a while, and he’d have one hell of headache, but there wasn’t much the doctors could do for him. </p><p>Even the chance of desk work was getting slimmer and slimmer as the doctor recapped Malcolm’s injuries to him. He hoped he’d be able to convince Gil he was okay to work still-- maybe not be quite as active in the chase, but help anyways.  </p><p>A concussion had never slowed him down in the past, and he didn’t plan on letting it start now.  </p><p>Malcolm ran his hands down his face, letting out a slow sigh. The OxyContin was really starting to kick in now, and his body was clouded with a hazy numbness.  </p><p>His brain though, was still working perfectly. </p><p>A knock on the closed door drew in Malcolm’s attention, and he looked over to see Dani poking her head in. “On a scale of <em>Bright</em> to <em>high Bright</em>, how afraid should I be?”   </p><p>“I don’t know why you’d be afraid,” Malcolm cracked a smile, “you’re the one who slugged high Bright in the face. And medical drugs are a piece of cake for me. You’re good.” </p><p>Dani pushed the door open the rest of the way with a tiny smile, “so, what’s the verdict then?” </p><p>“Some cracks,” Malcolm huffed out, throwing the arm not held stiffly with a shoulder brace over his eyes, “a few hairline fractures here and there, but there’s not much to be done for them. A concussion, of course, but I assumed as much. Subluxated shoulder, but it’s bearable.” </p><p>“So… basically you’re broken?” </p><p>“Slightly <em>damaged</em>,” Malcolm corrected with a grin. He sat himself up, ignoring the head rush as he did so, “not broken. I’m good to go.” </p><p>“Shouldn’t you, y’know, stay the night or something? For the concussion?” Dani looked skeptical as Malcolm pulled himself off the little cot, wavering just slightly.  </p><p>“Probably,” Malcolm shrugged, giving Dani a smile as she grasped his uninjured bicep to help keep him upright, “they can’t keep me here though. I’ve already been prescribed a mild dose of OxyContin for pain relief, so there’s not much else they can do for me besides overnight observation-- but I’ve never been a fan of hospitals; the sterile smell, you know?” </p><p>Malcolm paused, eyes lingering on Dani’s fingers on his arm before he cleared his throat, “and, to be completely honest with you, I don’t quite trust them not to sedate me if I happen to have a night terror.” </p><p>“Good point,” Dani frowned, worrying her lip between her teeth. “You shouldn’t be alone still.” </p><p>“I’ll be fine,” Malcolm waved off. He found the rest of this clothes, wincing as he pulled his button up shirt back on, ignoring the blood on the collar. Dani’s eyes lingered on the murky stain, so Malcolm turned away as he moved to tie his tie, “No worse than any other work-related injury I’ve been graced with.” </p><p>“And on that note,” Dani called fondly from behind him, “I just got off the phone with Gil, and he’d like for you to come do an incident report if you’re feeling up to it. And he, like the rest of us, would like to know how you solved the entire case from the bottom of an elevator shaft?” </p><p>“Long story,” Malcolm snorted as he turned back towards her, taking a second to eye his jacket hanging over her arm. He took it into his hands, not yet pulling it on, and instead balling it up in his hands. “I’m game if you are. It is quite the tale, let me tell you. You were all there. But, like, not, right? My father wasn’t a serial killer, can you believe it?” </p><p>“No kidding?” Dani furrowed her eyebrows. “That must’ve been weird.” </p><p>Malcolm studied her face, but she wasn’t looking at him, instead watching where Malcolm stepped and leading him along. His thoughts caught on the Dani in his dream-- the one who’d curled up with him on the couch, “oh, you have no idea. It was… it was kinda nice though too.” </p><p>“Was it?” Dani finally looked up at his, eyes sweeping over his face before she gave him an odd look. Malcolm didn’t really have a reply, and Dani didn’t draw her attention away for a while.   </p><p>Malcolm raised an eyebrow, returning the look in confusion, “what?” </p><p>“Nothing.” </p><p>He let it go. </p><p>Discharge was more of a hassle than Malcolm thought it would’ve been. Who knew they were so against people leaving early? He got it, if he died, it was on him.  </p><p>The hospital had warned him about leaving. The receptionist had even called the doctor who’d seen him to try to talk him into spending the night in observation.  </p><p>Malcolm wouldn’t budge on leaving though, barely batting an eyelash as he signed his name on the against medical advice discharge papers, not even caring about the unsure looks his doctor, the receptionist and Dani’s were exchanging.  </p><p>Dani hadn’t been pleased if the scowl on her face was anything to go by, but there wasn’t any way in hell Malcolm would be staying longer than he thought was necessary. Besides, he had pain relief now.  </p><p>He was good to go.  </p><p>“To the precinct,” Malcolm had hummed when they’d arrived at Dani’s car. He grinned at her as he pulled his own door open before she could for him. She rolled her eyes in reply, but the look on her face was fonder than anything else.  </p><p>“Shouldn’t I be taking you home to rest? They didn’t seem too keen on letting you out. Isn’t that a cause for concern? Maybe?” </p><p>“Rest is for the dead,” Malcolm huffed, with a dismissive flap of his hand, “which, thankfully, I am not.” </p><p>“Well, you gave it your best shot.” </p><p>“Technically someone <em>else</em> gave it their best shot, but I still survived,” Malcolm teased.  </p><p>Dani didn’t reply, but a tiny smile curled onto her lips, which made Malcolm smile widely. She had a pretty smile, his heart stuttered as he thought about waking up beside her in his subconscious. </p><p>“What’s the smile for?” Dani questioned, eyes looking out the windshield and not at him, but he could see the curiosity on her face.  </p><p>“Oh, uh,” Malcolm laughed awkward, “it’s, ah, it’s nothing.” </p><p>She eyed him thoughtfully before looking away again, “alright then.”</p>
<hr/><p>Gil was waiting on the precinct steps when he and Dani rolled up. Gil had all but pulled him from the car, wrapping in a hug that hurt in a good way (it ached awfully, but he’d really wanted a hug). Gil didn’t seem to notice Malcolm wincing, overcome by his emotions that Malcolm was alright, but Dani had shot him sarcastic smile as she shrugged innocently.  </p><p>Malcolm scowled over Gil’s shoulder, but melted into the man’s grip the best he could through the pressure on his injuries.  </p><p>She’d saved him in the end, commenting absently about Malcolm’s cracked ribs, to which Gil had torn away from him like Malcolm had burned him.  </p><p>Then she’d betrayed him and rattled out his list of injuries to Gil while Malcolm made halfhearted attempts to ease the blows.  </p><p>Didn’t help much.  </p><p>Malcolm was on desk duty <em>after</em> the next week of strict bed rest. </p><p>Gil still allowed Malcolm to write out his statement, and incident report with the team in the room, but that was mostly because everyone wanted to hear his tale of murder solving in his subconscious while unconscious at the bottom of an elevator shaft, and because the whole group would be there if he passed out from his meds, or concussion or some other crazy thing Gil had stressed about.  </p><p>So, Malcolm wrote out his incident report whilst he told his team about his wild subconscious dream-- of course leaving out some of the more… personal aspects.  </p><p>It was funny to see Gil’s reaction to hearing he’d been the one locked in the cage at Claremont-- he’d been offended, and all Malcolm could do what hold his hands up in surrender. </p><p>“Someone had to be in the cage, Gil.” </p><p>Gil hadn’t thought that was very funny. Malcolm was sure if he didn’t have a concussion already, Gil would’ve playfully smacked the back of his head. Malcolm still thought it was funny. </p><p>JT looked terrified when Malcolm mentioned him being the Major Crimes leader in Gil’s place, and he’d been particularly uncomfortable about the fact he’d been exchanging golfing tips with his murderous serial killer father.  </p><p>“That’s just wrong, bro,” JT had given him a hard frown, arms crossed across his chest and an uncomfortable look on his face, “why was I the one who was buddy-buddy with your creepy old man?” </p><p>Malcolm held his tongue with retorting that his family had been questioning when Malcolm would pop the question to Dani-- but he knows he shot her a fond look at the thought, and he’s fairly sure she’d caught him staring. Oops. He’d blame <em>that</em> on the OxyContin. </p><p>All in all, the team seemed satisfied with his dream. With the evidence he’d found and linked together subconsciously. Everything checked out. They had a forensic anthropologist team currently digging up the newest remains found, but Malcolm was sure it would lead back to Rupert Swann. </p><p>The man had stood up from his wheelchair and let them cuff him, with nothing but an apology to his daughter to say for himself. He knew he’d been caught-- there was no doubt that man was the Bowery Ripper.  </p><p>It wouldn’t be long for the cold cases to be connected back to him now as well. He’d be going away for good (and for Malcolm’s attempted murder was there to seal the deal as well). </p><p>Gil had sent Malcolm away when his incident report was finished, telling him to get some sleep, but it wasn’t until he was tucked in Dani’s passenger seat that he really felt tired. She’d opted to drive him home instead of Gil. Malcolm had no complaints, and Gil still had some reports to finish up.  </p><p>“You really don’t have to stay,” Malcolm told her as she followed him up his stairs, “I promise, I’ll survive the night.” </p><p>“I don’t wanna take chances,” Dani scoffed, “besides, it’s not like I haven’t spent the night with a drugged-up Malcolm Bright. And, if I don't, then who’ll have the pleasure of waking you up every two to three hours if I go?” </p><p>“Pleasure? Please, I’m a nightmare to wake up.” </p><p>“Well, I’ve got my body armor down in the car,” Dani teased. “I doubt I’ll need it though; you don’t scare me.” </p><p>“Really?” Malcolm laughed as he made his way to his bed, watching halfheartedly as Dani closed and locked his door. He pulled his jacket off, dropping it at the end of his bed. “Hey, uh, you’re welcome to take the couch this time, y’know, if the counter’s not to your liking.” </p><p>“Har-har,” Dani shook her head before she continued in a deadpan voice, “you’re <em>hilarious</em>.” </p><p>“I try,” Malcolm snorted in reply as he tightened one of his restraints around his wrist, “you sure you’re alright staying here? Jokes aside, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, or hurt you or anything.” </p><p>“Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t,” Dani shrugged, moving up the stairs to his bed, “you’re always forgetting I don’t scare easily, Bright-- now, you need help?” </p><p>“Please?” Malcolm sighed after his third attempt at getting the restraint tightened. Dani stepped forward, adjusting his restraints, and pulling his covers up. As a second thought, Dani tugged the tie from his neck, and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.  </p><p>The tie joined his jacket and Malcolm adjusted himself in bed with the new freedom from the undone button. “Thanks.” </p><p>“No problem,” Dani gave him a nod, sitting on the edge of his bed. Her eyes tracked along his injuries before she cleared her throat, “you’re due for your next round of meds in three hours, so I’ll wake you then?” </p><p>“Sounds good.” Malcolm yawned, “thanks again, Dani.” </p><p>“What are friends for, if not to wake you up and feed you medications?” Dani’s voice was light, her fingers brushing over his before she was pulling away. </p><p>Right, <em>friend</em>. Not like subconscious Dani. </p><p>It was quiet for a bit, Dani sat a second longer on the edge of the bed, but Malcolm didn’t mind. He let his eyes drift shut, but he didn’t let himself relax completely.  </p><p>“Hey, Bright?” Dani’s voice was soft beside him, drawing in his attention. Malcolm caught her eyes, raising an eyebrow, “so, was I… y’know, different in your dream?” </p><p>Malcolm thought about dream Dani, a soft smile curling onto his lips as he leaned back; finally letting himself relax into his pillows.  </p><p>“Yes… and, no. Its dream stuff, I don’t want to bore you with it.” </p><p>“The one thing you never do is bore me.” </p><p>Malcolm forced his eyes shut; he was sure his lips were curving into a small smile; the one he hadn’t been able to control all evening. These parallels would be the death of him. He was missing something he'd never even really had. </p><p>Malcolm had certainly been <em>shafted</em> by life today-- falling three stories is no fun. But he’d do it all over again to have Dani be his once again, for just a few more minutes in that perfect dream world.  </p><p>“Good night, Dani.” </p><p>“Night, Bright.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Malcolm Bright needs a break, so he will be dealing with Ainsley's... problems... in four-to-five business days. Let our poor guy have some recovery time from a traumatic fall, Ainsley. </p><p>Anywho! I hope you liked this! Thanks again to the anon on my other fic who suggested this! I had a lot of fun playing around with it. Malcolm and his humorous/sarcastic coping mechanisms is such a mood. And getting into his head about Dani was a joy to write-- the whump writes itself with this show.</p><p>As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! Lemme know how I did? Were they in character? Was this a suitable hospital visit for Malcolm? I'd love to knpw your thoughts and opinions! Thanks for taking the time to read, and hopefully I'll see you around in something else I've written? (Also, drop any fic suggestions if you've got 'em! Always looking for new PSon prompts!)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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